


The Last Of The Real Ones

by asweirdasiwant



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Jaskier, Bisexual and Confused Geralt, M/M, Mild Angst, Pansexual Jaskier, Royal!Jaskier, he's not confused about being bisexual he just doesn't understand what the hell is going on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:53:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22173613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asweirdasiwant/pseuds/asweirdasiwant
Summary: Jaskier is a bard. A great one if he says so himself, thank you very much Geralt. He sings his ballads, drinks his ale andpines over his witcherlives his life to the fullest.Julian Alfred Pankratz is the crown prince destined to become a king and bring peace to Kovir. Or so the old witch told his parents twenty-something years ago.They don’t seem to have a lot in common... Except being the same person.This is a story about destiny and how it’s not at all what we expect it to be. This is also a story about love and how nothing ever goes the way we plan. Which is good because if it did, there wouldn’t be a story.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 148
Kudos: 1089





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this whole thing started as a couple of hc's I made for my Royal!Jaskier moodboards [pt1](https://dontmindmytrashcan.tumblr.com/post/190083123317/royaljaskier-au)  
> [pt2](https://dontmindmytrashcan.tumblr.com/post/190162580102/royaljaskier-au-pt2) but grew into an outline for a full story. I'm using bits and pieces of canon from the show and books but I'm twisting it the way I want and adding a lot of original characters and storylines. I do plan to write a few chapters of Geralt's POV but generally this fic is gonna be very Jaskier-centric. Hope you enjoy!

_“Why is it whenever i find myself in a pile of shit these days, it’s you, shoveling it?!”_

_“Well, that’s not fair...”_

_“The Child Surprise, the djinn, all of it! If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands.”_

_“Right. Uh… Right, then._

_I’ll… I’ll go get the rest of the story from the others. See you around, Geralt.”_

***

Growing up, little prince Julian could spend hours on end listening to the songs of wayfaring minstrels entertaining the crowd on the main square of the Capital. The Great Queen Nera, raised in the militaristic tradition, thought her son was spending that time with no earthly use but mother’s heart still ached when she saw that silly ballads about heroes and monsters were the only thing that made her son’s eyes shine like that. At that point she would be happy with anything more that absolutely apathetic, but the boy looked positively joyous when yet another bard would come into the city to sing about witchers and whatever rot they’re fighting for a coin.

Julian never let anyone’s disdainful scoffing to discourage him from pursuing music and poetry. He earned that right with his own sweat and tears. Crown prince’s life was an exhausting neverending carousel of combat training and political indoctrination, so if the only thing that made him feel alive in all of this wasn’t approved by the upper crust, he didn’t give a rat’s ass about that.

Right now however, sitting in a dingy tavern somewhere in Novigrad, Jaskier thought that Julian might have fucked himself over on this one. Thinking that life of heroics brings you purpose left him with a broken heart and empty pockets. A tragic combination really.

Jaskier would undoubtedly continue to sit there and pity himself, but that night destiny had other plans for him.

A group of very agitated soldiers walked into the tavern. Wouldn’t be an unusual thing to see, except they were wearing Kovir’s crest. When you live your whole life around soldiers, even more so when you’re trained as one, you learn to see things hidden from the civilian's eye. Something was clearly off. These people were on full alert. And if trained professionals, used to living under a constant threat, are _that_ alert, you know shit’s about to go down big time.

Military hierarchy in Kovir is one the things people know better than their own names (because when your kingdom has been at war for half a century and lived under its threat for another half, it kind of becomes an obvious priority). So it took no time at all to identify the most high-ranking one among the group. The man was wearing General's Insignia on his _left_ arm, meaning he was just an acting general. That didn’t make much sense. Nothing about this group even remotely hinted that they’re coming back from combat, so it was probably a diplomatic mission. How the hell does a military general gets himself killed on a diplomatic mission?

The man was just heading outside for a smoke. Good timing. Like a shadow Julian slipped out of the tavern, following him. Julian’s combat mentor, the one that also trained shadowwalkers, always said that nightfall could be your best friend as it could be your worst enemy. Julian really hoped for that best friend bit right now.

The man was an inch or two shorter but wider in shoulders. Not that it particularly mattered to someone who was trained to fight men twice his size since he was ten years old. In one swift movement Julian knocked the General off his feet, took the dagger from the sheath on his left forearm where by protocol all high ranking officers had to keep a compact weapon of choice and put the tip of that dagger right to man’s sonar artery to avoid a counterstrike.

“I come with no ill intentions.”

The General looked a bit startled, but regained his composure pretty quickly all things considered. Commendable.

“That’s a helluva way to show it, boy.” The tone was threatening, but the man made no attempt to move. “Who the hell are you?”

Julian gave him a little smirk before replying.

“My name is Julian Alfred Pankratz, the crown prince of Kovir. I will take the blade away from your throat and show you my patrimonial medallion but I warn you: if you try to attack me right now, you will not live to see another day.”

He reached under the tunic neckline to pull out a medallion, no bigger than a coin, with an engraving of knight’s glove above the slightly crooked italic lettering, as if a child wrote it. **_Przeznaczenie_** the inscription read.

The man studied the medallion for a couple of second before giving an affirmative grunt. He rose to his feet. Placed the right hand on his heart.

“My name is Kamil Dabrowski, acting general of the 14th division in the service of her majesty Great Queen Nera of Kovir. I’m at your service, prince Julian.”

“On the service of _her_ majesty... Does this mean…”

Kamil gave a respectful bow.

“I’m sorry, sire.”

Julian took a deep breath to compose himself. A good leader has to stay imperturbable in the face of adversity. He just hoped he can convince himself that being a good leader is more important than being a good son by the time they get to Kovir.

He flipped the dagger and handed it back to Kamil. “Tell your men we’ll leave at dawn. The road is long, they should get some rest.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> god retyping that dialogue from ep 6 took like 10 years off my lifespan. Also now I’m very pissed at Geralt. I’m coming back for him in later chapters and im vengeful !!
> 
> I haven't written fiction for a couple of years now so I hope I'm not too rusty. Constructive criticism is welcome!


	2. Coming home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all the lovely people who left kudos and comments on ch1, ya'll are super awesome! The fact that so many people took time to tell me they like my work really inspires me to keep going !!
> 
> Also big thanks to my beta for making the chapter look like I knew what I was doing from the beginning <3

They managed to reach Kovir’s border in four days. It was another day and a half before the towers of the fortress surrounding the Capital were visible on the horizon. Kamil didn’t know what kind of situation they would be walking into, so as a precaution, he decided they will be taking breaks during the day and travel mostly during the night. 

The Capital was quiet. There’s probably a curfew, Julian thought. They walked past a patrol on the way to the main square, but the guards just saluted Kamil and carried on. Most likely they are not the only division coming back from missions at odd hours. 

Julian knew they'd been followed since they stepped into the capital, but knowing the people who followed them, he assumed the intention wasn’t to hurt anyone or they would’ve been dead already.

He parted ways with the 14th division in the Central Square. It was quiet there, this late at night. Kamil and his people were to head for the military district and Julian decided to go straight to the palace.

“Are you sure you don’t need escorting to the palace, sire?”

Julian mustered a tired smile, “No Kamil, it’s been a minute but I still remember my way around.” 

The General was skeptical. They both knew that wasn't the reason Kamil asked. Julian basically had a target on his back, showing up like that. But his father was a politician, he reminded himself, and Julian was a soldier, if a rusty one. 

“Take care, General.” He nodded to the soldiers as he gave the salute and was on his way.

***

Remembering his training, Julian stayed close to the walls. Jaskier’s snazzy red combo didn’t really allow him to merge seamlessly with the shadow but his steps were quiet, so he still had the benefit of surprise. Julian crept up until he was right in front of the two sleepy guards and finally stepped into the dim light from the torch on the gates.

“It’s a lovely night gentlemen, don’t you think?”

His voice startled them more than it should have, and as they pointed the spears at him, they looked almost terrified. They were pretty young too, he noticed.

Julian was just about to introduce himself, reaching for the medallion, when a spearhead almost went right through his hand. The instincts kicked in faster than the brain. He twisted his arm out of harm's way and grabbed the handle right under the spearhead, effectively blocking any further movement. 

"Well, that's just fucking rude." Julian promptly twisted the spear upside down to avoid actually harming the dumb schmuck and knocked him on the head with a handle. The guard slid down the gate. He was out cold.

Julian turned to the other one, showing him the medallion. The boy looked from him to the first guard in absolute panic. Julian was decidedly too sleep deprived to deal with this right now. 

“Your friend is fine. He’s just taking a little nap. Go find the Queen or Princess Stanislawa. Say Julian’s home.” Seeing how the guard still stood there, just staring at him, Julian added, raising his voice just a little, “Now!”

That got the job done, the boy disappeared behind the gates.

It wasn't that Julian couldn't enter the palace in other ways or at least give the order to open the gates, but something about the situation really rubbed him the wrong way. These guards were practically kids, no older than the second year of the Academy. It wasn’t right to put them on this duty. Something was wrong here and before entering the enemy’s lair (that’s what he called his home now, huh) he wanted to see someone he could trust.

The gates opened full force some twenty minutes later. There stood a still very startled guard and Julian’s very exasperated sister, uniform overcoat over her pajamas. There was a Lieutenant General insignia on the coat. Gods, when he left she just got her Lieutenant Colonel. He hadn’t been home for so long...

“The Prodigal Son returns! Didn’t think I’d live to see the day.” It was meant to sound harsh, Julian was sure, but the little smile she failed to hide gave her away.

“Glad to see you too, Slawa.” He smiled. “I’m almost surprised you came down to get me. Thought you would enjoy making me sleep with dogs.”

“Oh, I would.” She was openly grinning at this point. “But I don't want to be responsible for the Great Savior of Kovir getting meningitis, it will tear at my public image, you know. Come on in, we’re technically on lockdown.” 

She turned to the guard. “Close the gate, do the rest of the shift as usual. When Dano comes to tell him, too: if anyone asks you _anything_ about this night you tell them nothing eventful happened, just a drunk rowdy trying to start trouble. That's an order, understood?” Stanislawa was probably the only person Julian knew who could still look imposing, despite being in her pajamas. 

The Guard straightened up and put the right hand on his heart. “Yes, ma’am.” 

As they were walking through the courtyard he didn’t ask any questions. Julian knew that walls had ears and since he was completely out of his depth with what was considered safe ground in the Palace these days, he trusted Slawa to talk when she deemed safe.

As they reached the door to one of the guestrooms, she turned to face him. 

“I took your room. It’s bigger and I like the view so you’ll have to do with the guest room. For you,” she gave him a critical once over, “this will probably be an upgrade anyway. I’ll send someone to draw you a bath and bring a change of clothes. I don’t care how tired you are. By tomorrow morning the rumors will spread that you’re back and I can’t have you looking like you haven’t had a bath in a coon’s age. I literally see flecks of dirt in your hair. I’m not even gonna ask why are you dressed like a prostitute. Expensive one, I’ll give you that, but still.”

Not that she was wrong per se but taking offense was a matter of principle.

“I refuse to take fashion criticism from a person who’s worn military uniform to every social function since you were 12.” Trying to mimic his mother’s tone as best as he could, he added, “Darling, but you’ll scare off all the potential marriage prospects.”

Slawa’s stern facade cracked and she gave Julian a grin, wrapping him in a hug that positively made his ribs crack, and said in a very quiet voice, “Glad you’re finally home, asshole. We missed you.” 

When she let him go, her face was back to careful neutrality.

“Mom is taking her breakfast on the eastern terrace these days. You should tell her you’re home yourself. Get some rest.” And with that, she was gone.

***

The hot bath felt like heaven for his tired bones. Kovir was a northeastern kingdom so autumn gave way to winter early. While traveling with Geralt, he could annoy the man into sharing a warm cloak (and body heat) but he was traveling with a bunch of strangers so sleeping on the cold ground, alone, had taken a toll on him. 

The girl that brought hot water and a change of clothes had no real reason to stay, but she kept rearranging stuff on the shelves that were already perfectly organized and throwing furtive glances at him from under her blonde lashes. Julian was never dense about these kinds of things.

It was risky to lose vigilance, considering everything that’s been going on. Julian knew better than most that seemingly harmless people can turn out to be menacing opponents but he decided that if Slawa had sent the girl to her poor, sleep-deprived brother, she trusted her enough not to kill him.

When he finally felt warm and clean and was sure there’s no more dirt in his hair, Julian got out of the tub.

The girl's skin was pretty tan, but he still noticed how her cheeks flushed a little. Standing near the door she said, “If you don’t need anything else I should probably…”

Her brown eyes looked almost amber in the dim lighting, and he thought: why not, really?

“You could stay.” She looked up at him smiling, her eyes full of mischief. The situation was clear as day but he just had to make sure. “If you want, that is. I know you have to wake up early and me showing up like this was already a hassle.”

“I’d love to.”

She really had the loveliest smile, Julian thought as he led her to his room.

***

When he woke up, Božena, that was her name, was gone and a change of clothes was waiting for him on the dresser. Julian thought for a second to try and wear his old uniform, but those things were tight and if it didn’t fit he was afraid his pride might not survive it. Gods, he needed to go back to training. He did, however, take his old daggers out. He strapped the sheaths to his thighs over the casual black pants and covered them with a long black coat over the white shirt. 

It was time to face the music, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope nobody expected Jaskier to go celibate while Geralt is getting his shit together because I planned so many love interests for him and I'm so exited to explore his dynamic with all kinds of people!


	3. Interlude, but not really

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's here! And it's almost twice as big as chapter 2!  
> I just wanted to say thank you to everyone who left comments to previous chapter! I read them all (more than once) and they make me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. I'm so glad you're enjoying the story so far!!  
> Big thanks to my beta, not to be dramatic or anything but he's literally a godsend <3

Just like his sister said, Julian found his mother on the terrace in the eastern wing of the palace. She was eating a bagel while reading a parchment and by the face she was making, Julian assumed the contents didn’t quite please her.

It was never a good idea to sneak up on highly trained military personnel so he made his presence known, stepping just a bit heavier than usual.

“I hope this seat is not taken.”

She looked up at him, confusion on her face quickly giving way to undisguised happiness. “Julian!” She got up to hug him and now he knew who Slawa got her crushing hugs from. What was it about Pankratz women trying to literally kill him with affection. “You’re finally home.”

After the initial wave of surprise passed, she let him go and gave him a critical once-over, her face taking a grim expression.

“Julian, what the actual fuck? Did you even train at all this whole time? You look like some weasely merchant, not a trained combat fighter. And straighten your back for the love of Gods!” Yup, that was as much motherly affection as one could get around here.

“I will get back to training right away, Grand Marshal Nera.” He gave her the official salute but still couldn’t hold back a warm smile.

“It’s The Great Queen Nera now” she said, her voice a little strained.

“I’m sorry mom, I headed home as soon as I heard.”

“We can grieve later, Julian.” She looked him in the eyes, determined. “When we find the culprit and put his head on a stake.”

“Now that’s what I like to hear first thing in the morning. Good morning, mother. Julian.” Slawa walked into the room with the energy of a person who had actually gotten a full night sleep. Too energetic for Julian’s taste. She was wearing a uniform this time (a lighter version even though the weather was getting chillier each day) and had two lightweight swords crossed behind her back. Julian remembered suddenly that when she was twelve she had chosen those as her primary weapon because she thought it’d make her look more intimidating. Slawa didn’t get her growth spurt until her late teens, so the poor thing had taken any opportunity to establish herself. He cherished his life enough to not mention this to anyone ever though. She might have chosen them for the looks but she was one of the best sword fighters Julian knew. It occurred to him that seeing Stanislawa and Geralt spar would be nothing less of spectacular.

She took a seat at the table, opposite Julian, and handed their mother a parchment.

“I need you to sign this. It's an appointment decree for the 14th division. They came in last night.” She gave Julian a side eye but said nothing to him. “Acting general, Dabrowski, gave the report this morning. He did well in that shitshow, got everyone out alive, so I don’t see any reason why he shouldn't take the place permanently.”

“Hm. You’re right. Wouldn’t hurt to have him on the council as well, he seems to have his head on straight.”

At this point, Julian was positively bursting with curiosity. Kamil’s people were visibly shaken when he met them in Novigrad but he had better things to worry about. Now, seeing his mother and sister in relative safety, his natural curiosity came back with vengeance. He broke down.

“So what happened to the previous one? The general, I mean”

Their mother went back to her paperwork, so Stanislawa’s full attention was now on her brother.

“14th was on a diplomatic mission to Niedamir. As soon as the news about dad broke, they were supposed to head to Kovir immediately, all prior arrangements notwithstanding, but that idiot got into it with a witch. He not only delayed the departure for two days, but got himself killed when the girl didn’t believe he’d been called back and tried to burn down the inn in the fit of jealousy. Kamil and his people got out and helped evacuate the civilians. That guy didn’t make it. Can’t say I feel sorry for him.”

As Slawa was retelling the story, while simultaneously trying to steal apple slices from Julian’s plate, their mother signed the decree, finished her breakfast and as she got to her feet, she said

“I’ve got to go now, I have an audience with the consul of Pont Vanis. But Julian, I wasn't joking when I said you need to get back to training.” She gave him an excruciatingly unimpressed look. Slawa made a sound that was more like a cackle than laugh.

“Take him to the boys.” The Queen told her. “I will not have my son walk around looking like some dainty count.”

Trying to stifle the laughter that was about to burst out any second his sister saluted.

“Yes, ma’am.”

With that, their mother was gone.

‘The boys’ as Queen Nera fondly referred to them, were in fact an elite combat squad, that had probably no match on the continent if in the world - Shadowwalkers. Good Gods, Julian was so dead.

Slawa started to pile up the breakfast food on her plate, while Julian contemplatively chewed on a piece of smoked meat.

“So, before you lead me to my inevitable death, do you mind giving me a rundown on political climate around here.”

Not bothering to finish chewing before answering, she said, “Oh you won't die, you big baby. You might faint, and fall on your ass a lot, and generally embarrass yourself to the point of no redemption, but you won’t die.” She looked delighted just imagining it. “You’re right though, you need to get the basics, but you should rely mostly on situational awareness. These people can change their colours real fast. So, what do you want to know? ”

She kept shoveling food while Julian thought how to better formulate his questions. It was almost impressive how much she ate, considering Slawa was at most 5’6 and wiry but not particularly muscular. They’d both always relied more on speed and agility in fights.

“What do we know about dad’s murder so far?”

She pushed the plate away, her face serious.

“It was a mole in the court. The main suspects are the ones with any claim to the throne, but we can’t exclude the possibility of a coup in the works.” She chewed a slice of bread thoughtfully. “As for the military folk… I kind of hope your new buddy can provide some insight into the Generals' Counsel. For now, at least, their support is with the queen, but it might change if they feel we’re caving under the pressure. Everyone’s watching her every step, Jules, looking for signs she’s not fit to rule without dad reining her in.”

Fuck, Julian thought.

“Right. And what’s up with these glorified concierges at the gate?”

“Well, actually skilled people have better places to be right now, like at the border with Provis. Shadowwalkers are watching the palace but the lack of military personnel around can raise concerns among civilians, so I have to maintain the illusion that nothing is out of the ordinary. We can’t have public unrest on our hands on top of everything.”

Slawa was talking about all of it so casually. This kind of equanimity is something Julian admired about her, but it also scared him sometimes. He realized it will take a lot of time for him to start thinking about things like betrayals and deaths so matter-of-factly. He was not sure that he would ever be able to.

Julian’s inner turmoil probably showed on his face, as his sister promptly changed the subject. She was a caring person after all, just had a peculiar way of showing it.

“Listen, I’m a busy woman, I don’t have all day to watch you mope around. Finish your breakfast, we’ve got places to be.”

***

“So, I was under the impression you’re supposed to take me to the training grounds. We’re literally walking in the opposite direction.” 

Slawa didn’t slow down to answer him. “People in court started getting curious why we still have this huge area of the training grounds restricted when you’re not here and I train mostly at the academy, so mom had to move _certain squad_ to the mountainside. Close enough to keep an eye on, far enough that no one really has any questions. Plus they can improve valuable skills like rock climbing and disguise on deserted areas. You’ll need a horse to get there, though. So that’s what we’re doing. Getting you a horse.” 

The royal stables were a 10-minute walk from the palace to the southwest. It was a huge compound with both covered and open areas. A lot of very gifted people dedicated their time to make sure the animals were healthy and ready for the long road at a minute’s notice. Julian also noted, probably for the first time in his life, just how actually clean it was there. He had seen taverns dirtier than these stables. And those served food. For people. 

As they walked into one of the big covered pavilions, a young man with tousled red hair peered out from behind the partition of one of the stands. His face instantly lit up with a wide sincere smile. Julian suspected it wasn’t _his_ presence that made the man so happy.

“Princess Stanislawa! No one told me you would come in today. I’m sorry, we weren’t expecting you.” He bashfully rubbed the back of his neck while deliberately not looking her in the eyes. Next to him, a shaggy horse, that clearly didn’t like it’s caretaker getting distracted, gave a miffed neigh.

The funny thing was that Slawa also couldn’t seem to look at the guy. And her cheeks got _violently_ red. “Um...yeah. Umm, it was kind of the spur of the moment thing.” 

The two of them just stood there. Not looking at each other. 

The silence was stretching so Julian theatrically cleared his throat. Almost like just remembering he was there at all they both jerked.

“Right um… so that’s my brother Julian. He just came back from Oxenfurt. Like, he graduated a couple of years ago but he traveled so he just came home now.”

Julian didn’t know how any of this information was even relevant right now, but the sight of his sister stumbling on every word was so hilarious that he didn’t dare stop her.

Remembering why they were here in the first place, she blurted “So...horse. Um, Julian needs a horse. Yeah.”

The stable boy finally plucked up courage and looked at Slawa, his smile shy but warm. “It would be my pleasure to help your brother, Princess Stanislawa.”

Julian was positively ecstatic. His sister could command an army, but could not keep a straight face when a stable boy smiled at her. _Oh my_ , Julian thought, their mother is going to be livid. After all the times Queen Nera tried to forge political and military alliances through Slawa’s marriage, the princess goes and falls in love with a stable boy. As a crown prince, Julian was horrified, but as a hopeless romantic, he couldn’t be more excited.

Only then the young man finally looked at Julian. Julian absentmindedly noted that he was cute. Tan skin, freckles. And there was something about those big green eyes, something that made you want to give him the whole world on a silver platter.

“I’m afraid you didn’t introduce yourself. I would like to know how to address you.” Julian felt his sister staring daggers at him, but Gods know he’s not going to pass up this magnificent opportunity to annoy her.

The boy gave him a smile. More subdued, polite.

“My name is Mateusz. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sire.”

Mateusz started talking a mile a minute about all sorts of breeds they had available and the specifics of caring for them, as the three of them walked along the stalls looking at beautiful horses that cost like a yearly income of a small town each. Julian was politely pretending to listen, while his sister, it seemed, really listened. He just wasn’t sure she actually _heard_ anything.

They were about to move to the next row, when something caught Julian’s attention. Someone, actually.

In the big stall in the far end of the stables stood a very apathetic looking horse, but Julian could swear it looked right at him, followed his movement. 

“Who’s that?” Julian asked as he came closer.

“Oh...” Mateusz’s excited demeanor deflated a little “She doesn’t have a name. One of the patrolling divisions found her near the border. She was wounded. We’re not sure exactly what happened to her, but nothing good that's for sure.” His voice was lined with sadness and a little bit of anger. It was clear he cared for every animal here dearly. “I nursed her and she even lets me brush her mane sometimes, but other than that she won’t let anyone close. Even other caretakers. My best guess is that she’s a Friesian*. She’s very strong and she needs a lot of exercise, but she wouldn’t let anyone take her out. She’s not aggressive per se, but she might hurt you, so be careful.”

Julian thought to himself: it worked once, it might work again. He carefully moved to the end stall, making sure the horse saw him so not to spook her.

“I love the way you just…stand there in the corner and brood. Very impressive really. I’ve been told you have quite a temper. Yeah well, you see, I don’t believe you’re that bad. I know you’ve been hurt, but you seem like a tough lady and I desperately need a companion…of a horse kind.”

His sister was trying to look annoyed, but Julian was sure she was at least a little amused. Mateusz just looked utterly lost and maybe a little terrified. Well, he might as well start getting used to Julian’s shenanigans. 

The horse was wary and her eyes were incredibly judgemental but she still came closer, so Julian carried on. 

“I also happen to know you need a lot of exercise but you won’t let anyone near you. See, you might think I’m not your best option. Well yeah, I’ll admit I’m a bit out of shape, you’re right, but so are you. We can work on this together, I’m not the judgemental type, really, and I’m very patient as long as you don’t mind that I’m chatty. You don’t have to listen really, but I think you might want to, eh? No one really talks to you much, must be lonely, I reckon. Of course you’ll never admit that, you seem like the proud kind.” 

He knew he got her attention (or maybe he was just completely bonkers), so he went for the win.

“So, what do you say? You, me, fresh air, fresh grass, the whole shindig. And if you don’t like me, no problem! Just please don't throw off the saddle, that would hurt my feeling quite a bit and I’m sensitive like that.”

The horse just stood there, looking at him unblinking. 

“Give me the reins.” he said to Mateusz quietly. 

“Prince Julian…”

“Fucking hell Julian!”

His sister and the boy started at the same time. That seemed to embarrass them both enough to lose the heat to argue with him, and as they kept avoiding the eye contact, Julian took the leather reins from the young man’s hands. He slowly came closer to the little gate. the horse took an irritated breath but came to him nevertheless. He pet her gently and then started carefully putting the reins on her.

She just stood there with a face of a martyr but didn’t try to escape or attack him.

“What a handsome gal you are, huh. I’m gonna call you Geraldine, what do you think?” he said as he fed her a little apple.

She looked supremely not impressed.

“Wait, so you're serious, you’re gonna take her?” Mateusz asked, completely dumbfounded.

“Yup, she’s now my second favorite lady in the world, after my mother.” He looked at Slawa with a shit eating grin.

A commotion outside put them on alert. Slawa instinctively stepped in front of Mateusz, reaching up for her swords. Julian hitched up the coat to get to the daggers. 

A man walked into the stables a few seconds later, clad in black that left little doubt about who he was. Shadowwalkers didn’t have a strict hierarchy like the military, but that man was certainly a chieftain, Julian was sure.

He saluted Slawa, then nodded to Mateusz. “We just got back from the border, the horses are tired and thirsty. If you could get on that right away.”

“Yes, of course sir.” He returned the respectful nod and with a last little smile to Slawa he went outside.

Slawa sobered up. The man was looking at her, waiting. 

“Zakhar, this is my brother Julian. Whatever you want to say to me, you can say to him. I trust him with my life.” 

The man looked at Julian. Noded. Then turned back to look at Slawa.

“We followed the lead on the potential rendezvous points the traitor might’ve used. My people will compile testimonies from eyewitnesses in the report for your mother, but I wanted to tell you in person. Wouldn’t be right if you found out with the rest of the court.” 

Julian’s breath hitched. He knew what was coming. He just desperately didn’t want to face it.

“Almost everyone we spoke to gave us a similar description. Taking into consideration this person had the means to carry it out, the continuous contact with Provis’s officials just proves the motive.” He took a deep breath, almost like giving Slawa and Julian a second to prepare themselves. “We believe that advisor Ryszard is the man responsible for your father’s murder.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Friesian is the name of a horse breed. They resemble draught horses in that they're strong and heavy, but they're also graceful and nimble that's why in medieval times they were in great demand as war horses throughout continental Europe. (I read way too much stuff about horses for this chapter)  
> This is kind of how I picture [Geraldine](https://www.horsebreedspictures.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/10/Friesian-Sport-Horse.jpg)


	4. Everything is (not) under control

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this update! Chapters 4 and 5 are more focused on political scheming, I'm sorry if it's not your cup of tea but don't worry I have a lot of more personal chapters planned for Jaskier in the future!  
> 

Slawa was frantically pacing in front of the throne room, where the queen’s audience with the consul of Pont Vanis was running longer than anticipated. Zakhar was leaning on the column, watching her calmly.

“You’re not doing yourself any favours, winding yourself up like that,” he said conversationally.

That made her miss a step and turn to face him.

“I’m fine.” Anyone could see how _not_ fine she was at that moment. “I’m just calculating possibilities in my head, is all.”

Zakhar didn’t look convinced. “No, you’re trying to predict every little detail. Obsessively. You can’t effectively assess the situation when you’re like that, we talked about it Stanislawa.”

Slawa looked at him with all the stubbornness of a toddler for a couple of seconds, then she promptly flopped on the floor, her legs crossed, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then another one.

While Slawa was getting her groove back, or whatever it was she was doing, Julian turned to look at Zakhar. Really look at him. Mid-forties, taller than Julian, but not so he would have to crane his neck to talk to the man. Dark blond hair, medium length if Julian had to guess, but it was in an updo. There was something about his eyes though, something that felt off. Julian couldn't tell what it was without outright staring, so he decided he should get a proper reason to look the man in the eyes.

“So, how long have you been in the queen’s service?”

Zakhar gave him a knowing smirk, but it wasn’t unkind. He was a _very_ attractive man. Almost unnaturally so, Julian thought.

“About five years now.” His voice was low but oddly melodic. “I’m glad I got to finally meet you. I’m sorry about the circumstances, though. I heard a lot about you from your sister.”

Julian prided himself on his ability to clock liars, no matter how good they were. Right now, his gut told him the man was sincere. 

He chuckled. “I dread to imagine what my sister would tell people about me.” He looked at Slawa expecting her to return the jab, but she didn’t seem to hear him at all. Her breathing was even and it was almost like like if she was in some kind of trance. “Is she, like... okay?”

Zakhar smiled. “Yeah, she’s fine. Since she started to handle the upper echelon a couple of years ago, she’s not very good at managing stress, so I’m trying to teach her this meditation technique of sorts. I wouldn’t disturb her though, she seems calm but her senses are alert so she might hurt you if you come near without warning.” Finally meeting Julian’s eyes, he added, “And mostly she was telling good things. She missed you a lot.”

It was then when Julian saw. Zakhar’s eyes were different colours. The right one was brown, and the left was blue. 

He didn’t get much time to stare though because a young man clad in recognizable black emerged from behind one of the columns down the hall. As he approached their little party, his eyes went straight past Slawa sitting on the floor and zeroed on Julian. He didn’t say anything, just gave Julian an odd look, before he turned to face Zakhar.

“I compiled the rough version of the report. Anything more detailed will take at least until this evening. I also assigned people to keep track of Ryszard’s whereabouts until further notice,” he said as he handed a stack of papers to Zakhar.

Zakhar carefully flipped through them. “Alright, this will have to work for now. Thank you, Luca,” he said, giving a salute.

The young man mirrored the gesture, putting his right hand on the heart. He gave Julian another look before disappearing back behind the column. _What was that all about?_ Julian was pretty sure he never even met this Luca before in his life.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, looking at the space where the young man disappeared when the doors to the throne room opened. Zakhar was nowhere in sight and Slawa was already up, standing a little to the side with an expression that clearly translated as “Do not interact.”

* * *

The throne room had changed a lot since the last time Julian had seen it. They'd made the windows bigger, so the room had more natural light. It looked nice but Julian would bet money Slawa had had a major freakout when she saw what kind of security risk it was. From the open space with no place to take cover to large windows that gave a view of the room to literally anyone. Julian was sure it was his father’s idea. Very impressive and ultimately very useless. 

Zakhar started debriefing Queen Nera as Slawa struggled to close the heavy velvet curtains over those large windows. In addition to being large, they were also very tall so it was a losing battle for Slawa. Julian hurried to help her.

When they finally got settled around the big round table that had been brought for the audience, the Queen was already brought up to speed. Years of leading people into battle made her able to take any news with calmness. It unfortunately also separated her from the political scene and Julian had a feeling his mother was out of her depth right now.

“How do you suggest we proceed from here, then?” She asked, her tone carefully neutral.

Although Slawa had calmed down a little, she was still buzzing with energy. It just felt more directed now. She spoke quickly but didn’t seem frantic anymore.

“Well, treason is a crime against the kingdom, punished with execution. The problem is, we don’t have a law that specifies the jurisdiction.” It was clearly recited for Julian’s sake and he was infinitely grateful. “Before, I thought I would have to exercise my right as a crown princess. That would be tricky though since I’m a military executive and therefore only technically hold the royal title.”

When Julian left, he knew his father had big plans to remake the legislative system. He just never cared for what exactly that entailed. He deeply regretted his carelessness now, mostly because he felt very stupid sitting here pretending he understood what his sister was on about. 

“This doesn’t make any sense if I’m honest,” Julian said, trying to sound concerned rather than confused. He probably failed. “Why separate the titles at all? Why can’t you be a military executive and a crown princess and hold both powers? Kovir makes living fighting other people’s battles, how come people who do it don’t even have a say in what happens to the kingdom?”

Slawa was trying to look unperturbed but Julian could clearly see rage boiling in her eyes. Well, he thought, that answered his question whether her relationship with their dad got any better over the years.

“The last couple years our father deemed himself the diplomatic genius and didn’t want to listen to anything we were saying,” she said venomously. “Concerns regarding his safety included. And look where it got him.”

“Stanislawa!” Queen Nera really tried for stern tone, but just ended up sounding exhausted. It was clearly not the first time they’ve had this argument.

“What, like you don’t agree with me. After you separated it’s almost like he was doing everything to spite you.”

“Stanislawa, this not the time nor the place.”

Julian had to agree with his mother on this one. Sometimes, when Slawa was dead set on winning the argument, she forgot to consider how inappropriate or hurtful she might be to her opponent. In that moment she probably realized that too. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry mom.” She didn’t look sorry but even saying that would have been impossible for her just a couple of years ago. “Anyways, over the years he gave decision making powers to the civilian aristocracy. So now the royal court is not just an old stupid tradition, they can actually affect things around here,” she grimaced. “Not _everyone_ there is an idiot.” At that, she gave their mother a pointed look, like the statement was some kind of goodwill gesture on her part. “But most are absolutely useless and before now I didn’t really see a way to get rid of them.”

“But you do now?” Zakhar asked. He looked like he knew the answer, but wanted to see Slawa come to it on her own.

“Kind of.” She started, carefully looking at Zakhar. “Ryszard is their unspoken leader right?” Zakhar noded. “So when we execute him, the court will lose credibility in the eyes of the public because they were following his lead on every little thing. If we play this right, we can take all executive power from them and redistribute it between the Queen and the Generals' Counsel. They’re not my favourite bunch of people, but I’ll take them over these greedy spoiled shitheads.”

“Alright, that makes sense. But that’s the future. What about right now? How are we going to execute him?” The Queen asked.

“You mean _who_ is going to execute him?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You certainly can’t.” And before the queen could even open her mouth, Slawa quickly continued “Not in the sense you _can’t_ do it but in the sense that you can’t if you don’t want to give the court leverage against you.”

“I think Julian might need a little context here,” Zakhar suggested. Good lad, Julian thought.

Slawa grimaced like just saying what she was about to say made her sick. “The court made sure the second mom was coronated to start spreading rumors about how a war chieftain can’t possibly be a good leader for the kingdom, which is a load of bullshit if you ask me. It’s not like people would even trust a bunch of privileged assholes but I'm absolutely sure that if mom executes him herself, they will find a way to use it against her. No matter what she does they’ll call it something like unlawful or unnecessarily cruel or some shit.” 

“So... are you going to do it?” Julian asked.

“I suppose I would have to, a day ago. It would have been the best option in those circumstances.” Uh oh. Julian knew this tone and he didn’t like it one bit. “But now, I have this royal figure with a beautifully crafted public image, a degree in humanitarian studies from a well-known academy who, to top it off, doesn’t have any known military background. A perfect candidate really.”

Julian was alarmed by this development, but truth be told he wasn't all that surprised. In the corner of his eye, he saw his mother, who looked like she probably felt somewhat similarly. 

“I like this idea.” It was Zakhar who broke the silence. “Very multifaceted approach.” He gave her a little nod and a smile, amusement clear in his eyes. As Julian watched her return a full-blown grin, he remembered just how quick their dad was to shut down her every idea, even very good ones, calling them “reckless and daft”. Essentially calling _her_ these things.

Julian just didn’t have the heart to argue. “If you say it’s gonna work, I trust you. What will I need to do?”


	5. The life that chooses you

Over the years, Julian went along with various plots of Slawa’s creation. Some of them he would lovingly refer to as batshit crazy. Others he would prefer to forget at all. His sister was an ultimate daredevil and Julian could pretend that he’s a sensible person who goes along just to keep an eye on her, but honestly, who would even believe that. Queen Nera once said that whereas Julian was always looking for trouble, Slawa was always ready to start it. Teamwork at its finest.

In retrospect, inability to say no to his sister is exactly how he found himself standing in the Central Square in all his regal glory, about to execute a man. He was also getting stared at by about five hundred people. This was probably one of a very few times Julian didn’t appreciate having an audience.

Ryzhard was furious with his arrest and prompt trial. However, his demeanor changed when he saw Julian and not Queen Nera standing before him to read out the verdict. Seeing how Julian isn’t militarized and very little people even know he was trained as a child, Ryzard probably saw the opportunity to get his way. He turned to the crowd, putting on his pathetic one-man show.

“My name has been slandered, my reputation of the King’s loyal advisor dragged through dirt by a power hungry girl and a woman who wouldn’t know a first thing about ruling a kingdom,” his voice was loud and just emotional enough to get people’s attention. He turned back to Julian, faux anger rising in his voice. “And now I have to just accept the humiliation of having my life handed to some stranger. I will not stand for that! I demand to exercise my right to fight for my honor, granted by Maciej’s law”

Julian was already tired of this man’s bullshit.

In the corner of his eye he saw his mother completely freeze. He knew he couldn't turn to look at her or Slawa right now, as to seem like he actually knew what he was doing. Julian had a gut feeling that his sister had somehow foreseen this and she mindfully threw him in the middle of this shitshow. Well, Ryzhard wasn’t the only one who knew how to work a crowd.

As Julian spoke to the people, his voice was even, unwavering. He presented them the perfect picture of calmness and poise.

“The Maciej’s law was passed to give wrongly accused a chance to protect their honor. This man can't do that.” He heard a few gasps among the crowd, but didn’t let it distract him. “He murdered my father, the person who trusted him over everyone, in cold blood. He had no honor to begin with. This man is a coward and will die like one,” the silence was deafening, and before Ryzhard could even so much as open his mouth, Julian went for the grand finale of his speech “but I will execute him honestly! That is what we as a kingdom stand for. I grant you the trial by Maciej’s law. Choose your weapon wisely.” 

* * *

Ryzhard went with the sword. He’s not the first one to assume that because Julian favours daggers, he’s a shitty swordsman. It’s funny how people can become so focused on not letting their opponent have even one advantage, they forget to not fuck themselves over in the process. 

Julian was naturally very observant and as he was watching people in battles over the years, he would always break down their fighting strategies in his head. For no particular reason, it’s just what he was always taught to do. Fighting is like dance in a way. It has rhythm. People who train together for a long time get used to a certain rhythm, so when you fight a stranger, as Ryszard generously called him, you’re already at a disadvantage. Julian knew every fighting style taught in Kovir, but no military man knew the sequences Julian was about to use because as far as Julian knew, _Witchers_ had a unique fighting style.

Ryzhard was on the ground soon enough, but Julian was ashamed to admit he was already pretty out of breath when that happened. Next part never gets easier, but it’s what needed to be done. Julian was never close with his father, wasn't in a state of cold war with him like Slawa either. But whatever his opinion of the man was, no one deserved a knife in a back.

It was very quiet, the crowd not dissipating just yet, as the guards dragged Ryzhard’s body from the square. Julian took a piece a cloth from the adjutant and wiped the blood from the sword’s blade. He couldn’t wait for this day to be over.

***

He was laying on his bed that evening, dead tired. Hair still a little wet after a bath. If he was honest with himself, Julian kind of expected to feel remorse. He didn’t. At that moment he didn’t really feel anything. It’ll probably hit later. 

He was thinking about his old life. What he could be doing now, if he didn’t came back. As painful as it was, he had to remind himself that he wasn’t wanted there anymore. Coming home made him remember something he forgot a long time ago. Julian Alfred Pankratz was a proud man, rightfully so. Not even love was worth forgetting it. So he will live like he always did: making the best out of any situation.


	6. No light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know many people have been waiting for this one! Geralt is here and he's pining! Roach is not impressed :/

The silence unnerved him. He tried to pretend it didn’t but it did. And that pissed him off. The universe was having fun at his expense and there was jack shit he could do about it. A more rational part of his mind tried to argue that maybe it all meant something, and the universe was trying to make a point, rather than just mocking him. He aggressively squashed that line of thinking, before it could turn into a full-blown guilt trip. After all, Jaskier was the most annoying presence Geralt has ever encountered. Which was rich considering Geralt’s occupation, he thought to himself. And now that this presence was gone, his life should go back to normal. As normal as it could get, at least. But it didn’t. He just felt like something was missing. Like there was a gaping hole in his life. And he didn’t know how to make things go back to the way they were before he met the bard. And he didn’t know if he wanted to. And it was driving him mad.

Almost like she sensed his angsty musings, Roach gave an amused neigh.

“Are you judging me right now? Well, that is just fantastic. So, I feed you, I take care of you and you still defend him? I feel betrayed.”

Another neigh.

“Yeah, I’m not having this argument right now. He’s gone. Nothing to talk about.”

Roach sighed, indicating she also had no interest in continuing. Couldn’t even let him have the last word. Typical.

They’d just walked past a sign directing to Angren, so the chances were they won’t have to sleep on the ground tonight. At last some good news, he thought as he gave Roach a judgemental look. She didn’t seem to care.

They entered the town around sundown, so Geralt was more than a little surprised there were still so many people in the main square. He got off Roach to get through the crowd and get a closer look. 

There was a woman standing on a bunch of wooden crates stacked on top of each other, telling the crowd how she’s so glad to be singing for them today and that any amount of money they’re willing to pay is welcome. A man stood next to her little makeshift stage, tuning his lute. He wasn’t even looking at the crowd. Oh Gods, Geralt thought. He got himself right in the middle of the strolling musicians’ performance. 

He was already turning to make his way out of the crowd when he apparently caught the woman’s eye.

“A special guest graced out humble performance today, the Witcher himself!”

Geralt grunted as he turned to look at her. He hated attention, and that’s exactly what he was getting right now.

“I hope everyone will find out what they're looking for tonight,” she said looking straight at Geralt.

It took him a second too long to realize human eyes just can’t be _that_ green. She was already singing when the thought crossed his mind. 

_“You are the hole in my head_

_You are the space in my bed_

_You are the silence in between_

_What I thought and what I said”_

The legend says siren’s song will uncover your deepest desires, your biggest fears, and your worst regrets. Geralt tried to think of something that could stop her, but he couldn’t. Such is the siren’s allure, you hear what you yearn to hear. No one can resist something this powerful. Not even a Witcher. 

_“You are the night-time fear_

_You are the morning when it's clear_

_When it's over you'll start_

_You're my head, you're my heart”_

The last couple of years start flashing before his eyes: Jaskier smiling at him in that grimy tavern where they met, Jaskier rhyming ‘Geralt’ and ‘yeller’ in a verse and laughing his guts out about it for ten minutes straight, Jaskier telling him someone will want him...

_“No light, no light in your bright blue eyes_

_I never knew daylight could be so violent_

_A revelation in the light of day_

_You can't choose what stays and what fades away_

_And I'd do anything to make you stay_

_No light, no light_

_Tell me what you want me to say_ ”

Jaskier telling him he’ll get the rest of the story from others, Jaskier leaving him alone on that cliff…

_“Through the crowd I was crying out and_

_In your place there were a thousand other faces_

_I was disappearing in plain sight_

_Heaven help me I need to make it right_

_You want a revelation_

_You want to get it right_

_And it's a conversation_

_I just can't have tonight_

_You want a revelation_

_Some kind of resolution_

_You want a revelation…_

_But would you leave me_

_If I told you what I've done_

_And would you leave me_

_If I told you what I've become_

_'Cause it's so easy_

_To say it to a crowd_

_But it's so hard, my love_

_To say it to you out loud”_

There was a horrible overwhelming ringing in his ears, but he was pretty sure the music had stopped. The people around him were visibly more dazed. They probably won't even know why they were here in the first place when they come to. Geralt reached for his sword, pointing it directly at the siren.

“Give me one good reason to not kill you right now,” he snarled.

The woman smiled at him warmly. Evidently, neither the weapon nor the anger radiating off the Witcher bothered her.

“Well, I didn’t commit any wrongdoing. Therefore, I deserve no punishment. Isn’t that what the Witcher’s code states?”

“You’re selling a starry-eyed fantasy, feeding on human weaknesses!” Geralt knew she wasn't wrong and he was grasping at straws here. He was just _so angry_. At her, at himself, at the world at large.

“I’m just showing people what their hearts desire. It’s not my fault if some are too afraid of what they really want.” 

She picked up her bag, now full of money and before she could disappear in the crowd she turned to look at him.

“I wish you the courage to find what you’re looking for, _Geralt_.” With that, she and her companion were gone.

***

Geralt ended up staying at a quaint little place called “At Marsha’s”. The food was decent and as he devoured his dinner, he kept telling himself that he felt like shit because he was tired and sleep-deprived. He didn’t even believe himself, that’s how pathetic he was.

The women at the table next to him were throwing suggestive glances his way and discussing the upcoming coronation in Kovir. Geralt didn’t care for their attention and he definitely didn’t care for politics, so he tried his best to ignore them. Unfortunately, they were very loud and Witchers have very acute hearing.

“But didn’t they just have a coronation? Didn’t that scary lady become the Queen?”

“No, you stupid. It's just her honorary title and they didn't have a ceremony. She was in charge of everything because her husband was murdered. Now that their son is back from Oxenfurt, he’s taking the throne for real.”

“Oh I heard he’s very handsome, I wonder if he’s going to get married soon?”

Geralt tuned out the conversation after that. Hm, didn’t Jaskier also go to Oxenfurt? Could he possibly know this new King? Why did Geralt even give a shit about it was a better question. He finished his ale and, ignoring the looks the women kept sending his way, went to his room. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you so much to everyone who leaves kudos and comments! Knowing that people enjoy my work really motivates me to write!
> 
> The song is [No Light, No Light by Florence + The Machine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HGH-4jQZRcc) I listen to their music a lot when writing this


	7. Don't panic, no, not yet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for leaving kudos and comments, I cannot stress how much your support helps me get out my gloom and actually write something!

The weather was chilly but the sun was out, so it was considered a nice day to be outside. Geraldine, chewing on her haystack, enjoying the sunlight, would probably agree. Julian, on the other hand, was getting knocked on his ass for Gods only knew what time in the last hour so he didn’t quite share the sentiment. Getting in shape was a grueling process that had only started to pay off the tiniest bit. Julian’s reaction time improved and he was only starting to feel out of breath after about an hour of extensive fight now. The downside was that his muscles were constantly sore and he was sporting the multitude of bruises of different shades and sizes. Thankfully, no one could see them under the heavy winter uniform, but they still hurt like hell.

“You’re getting better,” Zakhar commented as Julian landed on the ground face down with a painful thud. “You’re not anywhere near passable compared to my guys of course, but you’re definitely getting better.” 

“You’re a paragon of optimism, Zakhar,” Julian mumbled from his unenviable position. He was entirely too tired to get up (or even turn to look at the man for that matter).

“I have a lot of practice,” Zakhar smiled cheerfully. “I train children quite often, they too have fragile self-esteem.” Asshole , Julian thought. Truth be told, Zakhar was a phenomenal teacher. Demanding, yet patient. Careful not to push his students over the limit before they’re ready to cross it themselves. Under his command, the new generation of shadowwalkers will be as extraordinary as it will be terrifying.

When Julian didn’t make a move to get up, Zakhar took it as his cue that they were done for the day. Julian might seem to be dainty and dramatic, but he’s passionate and he’s devoted, so by now, Zakhar knew that Julian only stopped when he was physically incapable to keep going. When he finally found a modicum of strength to roll over and sit up, Zakhar was storing away the practice weapons. They were all blunt but weighted like the real thing. It was good to get used to the weight early in the training, Julian almost forgot how heavy some of them could be. He wholeheartedly blamed Geralt for making it look so easy. 

“So what’s gonna happen to my training once you and my mother are gone tomorrow?”

Zakhar gave him a skeptical look, accessing Julian’s general state of disarray.

“Don’t even dream about slacking off. I want you here every morning at dawn, no excuses. You’re gonna train with my apprentice, Luca. I’m sure you’ve seen him around: kinda short, dark hair, permanent scowl.” Zakhar gestured vaguely with one hand.

Ah yes. The guy that’s been giving Julian a stink eye every single time he encountered him. Great. That’s just great.

“How long do you plan on being gone then?” 

Zakhar put away the last of the weapons as he sighed thoughtfully. “Hard to say. We still have no idea what’s causing these disruptions at the border. The reports are inconsistent and sometimes downright contradicting so we’ll have to figure out what’s going on and how to stop it. I’m hoping we can turn out in about five to six weeks, but you know, if you want to amuse the Gods tell them your plans, and all that.”

Julian was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that they thought it was a good idea to leave him in charge when he had barely been home for a month and the palace was boiling with tension. Slawa called it immersion therapy. Easy for her to say when she’s fucking off to do a string of diplomatic visits for the time being.

“Why are you asking? Eager to get coronated, are we?” Zakhar smiled as he offered a hand to help Julian get up.

Getting to his feet with great difficulty, Julian scoffed, "Oh yes, the crushing pressure of the responsibility for hundreds of thousands human lives. Can't wait to drop that on my shoulders."

After Ryzard's execution, public opinion of Julian has been pretty welcoming so his mother saw it as the opportunity to ditch the tedious bureaucracy and go back into combat. It was exactly then that the disruptions at the border started, so the coronation and the whole solemn shindig that goes with it would have to wait until that's dealt with. 

"Funny,” Zakhar said, giving Julian an amused look “you don't realize it yet, but it's the fact that you think of it this way that will make you a good leader."

"Yeah, yeah. I'm quite amazing, I know.” 

He started moving towards the makeshift stable near the training ground where he left Geraldine. She was getting accustomed to him, step by step, only threw him out of the saddle once this week. Tremendous progress compared to the first time he took her out for a walk and came back walking, reins in hand, disheveled and covered in ugly bruises from countless falls. Mateuzs begged him to reconsider his choice. Mostly, Julian suspected, because he thought Julian getting hurt would upset Slawa. She didn’t look too upset if the hysterical laughter when she saw him was anything to go by. 

Saying goodbye was considered bad luck among military folks, so before leaving he turned to Zakhar and said, “I'll probably see you tomorrow before you guys leave.” _Since I wake up at the ass o'clock anyway_ , he pettily mumbled under his breath. “So I'll see you around I guess.”

Zakhar definitely heard that petty mumbling. He gave the prince a wide impish smile. "Have fun Julian!" 

He said it with his full chest knowing damn well Julian had a bunch of mind-numbingly boring shit to sit through today. The absolute ass.

***

With the way Julian was nodding off during the reading of budgeting reports today, he kind of expected to be out as light as soon as his head hit the pillow. He wasn’t. He was wide awake and full of energy. And it was already well past midnight.

Jaskier was used to entertaining people well into the wee hours of the night and unfortunately for Julian the old habits were hard to kick. The ruckus outside didn’t help either. People were clearly anxious about two thirds of the royal family departing at the same time, but everyone who was working at the palace grounds did their best to make sure the departure would go off without a hitch in the morning. The Queen and a dozen battalions along with a few chosen shadowwalkers as Queen's personal guards were to head northwest to change the watch on the border with Provis. Stanislawa and her people would follow them for about a third of the way there, then separate and head west to Kaedwen, the first destination on her route. Her goal was to make diplomatic visits, secure the alliances in case the war with Provis actually broke out and come back, all in less than two months. If she didn’t make it before the snowstorms hit, she wouldn’t be able to come home until well into the spring. Julian didn’t want to even entertain that possibility.

And if all that wasn’t stress inducing enough, he could always circle back to thinking about how the fuck was he going to handle ruling the whole kingdom on his own. And then he’d freak the fuck out. 

Knowing he was never good at processing things on his own, Julian decided to go bother Slawa. Only she wasn’t in her room and, seeing how she’s gonna be gone for over a month, Julian had a pretty good idea where she would prefer to spend her last hours in Kovir.

Well, if he couldn't have sibling compassion, he’d have to settle for a late-night snack. There was always a little open buffet left in the eastern wing near the kitchens for those who worked night shifts and anyone craving something to munch on at an ungodly hour. 

Julian was just trying to make sure the jello fit on the plate with smoked meat without touching it when he was spooked within the inch of his life by his own mother and if maybe, just maybe, he gave an undignified screech at that moment, no one needed to know about that ever.

“Gods! Maybe warn a person before you creep up like that!”

His mother just watched, amused to no end, how Julian was frantically gasping for air. “You have to be aware of your surroundings my dear,” she said unperturbed, as she stole a sugary bun from his plate. “What are you doing up so late anyway?”

He bit into a seasoned strip of meat, “Couldn’t sleep is all.”

Her eyes softened. “You’re worried about tomorrow.”

“And every day after that, yeah. Are you not? How are you so calm about it? I’ve only been back a couple of weeks. Aren't you afraid I’m gonna fuck everything up spectacularly?!” Maybe he was spiraling into panic. Maybe he didn’t know how to stop.

Queen Nera looked at him carefully, worry clear in her eyes. “Julian, you need to calm down. Take a breath. Put down your plate and let’s take a walk.”

He was clutching her elbow like he used to do when he was a kid as they walked to the garden on the opposite side of the palace. You could barely hear any noise there. Julian wasn’t sure if he liked the quiet or if it was unnerving him even more.

“Have you calmed down?” his mother asked as he let go of her arm.

“No,” he replied with all the poise of a stubborn toddler. Having his mom around actually kind of helped, not that he would ever admit it.

“Listen, Julian, I know you’re worried. And I know a big part of it is my fault.”

 _Wait, what?_ “Mom, I don't…”

“Let me finish, darling.” She sighed. Deep. Weary. “Me and your father… we put an enormous amount of pressure on you since a young age. We genuinely believed the end justified the means. We were very young when we had you, and when we got that prophecy… we were terrified. So we decided to do everything in our power to make sure you would be ready when the destiny came knocking. But in the process we just… pushed you away.” The Queen took another deep breath. Julian wasn’t sure he has ever seen her so vulnerable. It just wasn't something she ever let anyone see. Even her children. “When you went away, I was sure you wouldn’t come back.”

Julian felt tears running down his cheeks. “Mom…” He reached for her hand. “I was always planning to come home. Always.”

She smiled at him tentatively. “You know, I cried that first time you sent a postcard. I’m pretty sure Slawa did too, but she’d never tell.”

“I missed you guys a lot. But you know I had to do it, right? Had to do something in life that was purely mine,” the words came out hoarsely.

“I do now.” Queen Nera looked at him with that soft look still in her eyes, but she was more determined now. “What I’m trying to tell you, Julian, is that you have no reason to be worried. Being a ruler never felt right to you because you were trying to fit a mold me and your father created and you couldn't. But we were wrong. You’re perfectly fine as you are. You don’t need to change anything about yourself to be a good king. Just do what feels right in your heart, what you’re ready to stand for. You already have all the knowledge you need."

“I don’t really know what to say to that… thank you?

“Sorry it took me such a long time to get it right,” her smile looked a little sad.

Julian wrapped his mom in a tight hug, and if they stood there like that until he calmed down, well, it was nobody’s business anyway.

***

Slawa was almost late for the departure. Julian caught her approaching from southwest, her hair a mess, pupils the size of a saucer. After he fulfilled his brotherly duty and made fun of her relentlessly, he braided her hair to make it look at least semi-decent. All while she altered between threatening him with bodily harm and asking him to keep an eye on Mateusz and, surprisingly, Luca, who as it turned out, she was good friends with. They didn’t say goodbye, just hugged and promised to see each other before the snowstorms hit the north. 

Jaskier had a good life, Julian thought, but the absence of certain people in it created a void he could never fill. He’d thought he did, once, but he had been wrong and he paid for it with a devastating heartache.

The tiredness started to catch up with him soon enough. All Julian wanted at that moment was to crawl under a blanket and sleep for a week or two, but he had a training with Luca to get to and then he had to start his reading on Kovir’s legislative system to make sense of what his father had done to it. He naively assumed that Luca’s grumpiness was just his general attitude and it couldn't possibly be something personal. That it wouldn’t be too difficult to max out his charisma and make friends with the guy. What an ill-judged assumption indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was interesting how in the show Jaskier didn't actually say goodbye to Geralt so i decided to make it a cultural thing for Kovir. They never say ‘goodbye’. And if someone dies in battle, they believe they'll meet this person again in another life, because the strong connection between two souls will lead them to each other.
> 
> In my attempt to beat writer's block I made a moodboard for Slawa [here! ](https://dontmindmytrashcan.tumblr.com/post/612329937236541441/stanis%C5%82awa-apolonia-pankratz) and threw a few headcanons that I wasn't able to explore in the story yet. Nothing spoiler-y tho. Check it out!


	8. Baby boy can’t lift his headache head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! So I know it's been a while but I hope you're still interested in this story. I wrote the draft for this chapter in march but I didn't like anything I wrote and I took a break from writing. I went back to it last month and this chapter came together so here we are. I have a lot of ideas for the future of this story and I hope I'll be able to work out some sort of schedule for myself . Thank you to all the people who leave kudos and comments, I'm sorry I'm not always able to reply but I read all of them and it makes me incredibly happy to see people enjoying my work! (✿◠‿◠)
> 
> The title of the chapter is from You're Crashing But You Are No Wave by Fall Out Boy

Ever since Julian could remember, he never had to work hard for people to like him. Sure, being a prince had something to do with it, but Kovir’s hierarchy worked differently at the time. The culture around the royal family demanded respect, not likeability. And yet, Julian always felt that people just  _ wanted _ to be around him. 

When he was a child, all it took was a toothy grin to get whatever the hell he wanted.

In his teenage years, people started calling him charismatic. There was always someone ready to warm his bed or just simply be in his company, listen to his music. It helped that he was attractive too, but Julian knew better than to rely on it too much. People got bored with superficial things very quickly, in his experience.

When he left for Oxenfurt, Julian was afraid that people wouldn’t like him. That they’d see something people in Kovir couldn’t, clouded by his royal status. That he’s probably not that talented, or funny, or even attractive for that matter. However, the name Jaskier became somewhat legendary. Everybody knew that wasn't his real name, but that just made the speculations about his persona juicier. Who was he? Where was he from? The theories varied from absolutely ridiculous to semi-close to the truth (runaway prince from a faraway kingdom). He had many friends there, had some foes too. Fucked most of both. He was always a wanted guest anywhere he went. Even without the Pankratz name, he had talent and he had soul. That was enough for people to be enraptured with him.

Making money after graduation was a bit of a challenge at first. Julian, growing up in wealth and spending his youth around academia, couldn’t relate well to common folks. That made writing for them hard and, subsequently, making living hard. But Julian was always a fatalist (how can you not be if your existence was kind of a gesture of fate in itself) so he waited for something to turn the tide for him. 

He was one of fortune’s favorites after all, as he met Geralt of Rivia and the rest was history. The one he sang about too many times to ever forget. Even with the sour ending to his travels, Julian still prided himself on befriending such a complicated person. If someone like the grumpy witcher enjoyed (if reluctantly) his company, he  _ had _ to be a pleasure to be around. 

Well, as it turned out on that chilly morning, there were people that not only disliked him but, apparently, hated his guts. That was new.

When Julian got to the mountainside, Luca was already there, waiting for him with a truly impressive scowl. If not for the perpetual murder face, one could call him handsome, Julian thought absentmindedly. High cheekbones, dark hair, and striking dark eyes that Julian would call beautiful if their owner wasn’t staring daggers at him.

“You’re late. All that fancy education and you still can’t read a clock?”  _ Ouch _ . Gods, Julian sighed internally, why was this incredibly attractive man so very angry with him this early in the morning?

“I was seeing the departure through,” Julian replied easily, trying his best to ignore the hostility in the man’s tone.

“I’m sure your contribution was of the utmost importance,” Luca said, absolutely deadpan. “Are you ready?”

Before Julian even opened his mouth to reply, Luca knocked him off balance with a quick sequence. Julian didn’t have a chance to prepare for the fall, so he hit the ground as gracefully as a sack of potatoes. He heard a very menacing crack as he landed. He prayed it wasn’t his spine that made the sound.

“You’re clearly not,” Luca mused unkindly. “You know, people who want to kill you aren’t notorious for giving a heads up before they do.”

Julian still lay on the ground, with no visible intention of getting up anytime soon. “Yeah, that's why I train,”  _ asshole  _ \- he added under his breath. Julian was quickly losing the last traces of the good mood he had.

Luca didn’t seem impressed with that. “Hadn’t you’ve been training since you were, like, four? You can’t even block a simple attack sequence,” he scoffed.

_ That _ got Julian’s blood boiling. He sat up. 

“First of all, that was not a simple attack sequence! My body might not be in the best shape, but my head works perfectly, thank you very much. That was Kajetan’s triple sequence and it’s a pretty advanced fighting technique. Good for you for knowing that much, I guess,” he spat out venomously. Two can play this game if Luca was so set on being a complete douchebag for no reason.

“Well, are you getting up off that ground anytime this month?” The man was so pettily passive-aggressive, yet his face remained carefully impassive - like he put a lot of effort into keeping it that way.

Julian got a crazy idea. This was going to be so embarrassing if it won’t work out the way he planned, but after all, he’s nothing if not an optimist. He started slowly getting up from the ground. “Depends, are you gonna stop acting like a little bitch and spar with me properly?” Julian knew he still had places to go with his training but muscle memory was a great thing and it didn’t take much to trip Luca (with the same damn sequence, might he add) then straddle him and pin both his hands over his head, effectively blocking any movement. 

Luca’s eyes went wide and there was a blush splotching his cheeks and creeping up his neck. Not so straight-faced after all, Julian thought smugly.

“Now listen up, sweet cheeks. Since it was Zakhar’s decision to make us spar partners, we’re gonna get to know each other.  _ Become friends. _ ” Julian didn't lean too low (so not to get headbutted) as he spoke, his tone faux-sweet. Luca tried to struggle under him, but that’s where the height difference came in handy (thanks mom for those snazzy long limbs!). “And friends know all sorts of things about each other, right? So here’s a little something about me, a fundamental flaw of my personality if you will.” Julian made sure to make a dramatic pause. “I have a very,  _ very _ low tolerance for bullshit.” Luca looked at him defiantly, which was probably not easy in his current position. “I do not know what your problem is. I do not care. You have a job to do here so be a dear, get your shit together, and fucking do it like an adult.” Luca grimaced. Culturally, seniority was a big deal in Kovir and Luca looked pretty young, so Julian guessed he would hit a nerve with something like this.  _ Good _ , he thought. He let go of the man and made sure to get to his feet as gracefully as he could, “We’re done for today, love.”

Julian lied, of course. He cared about why Luca felt that way about him. Very much so. Julian was sure he’d never met Luca before leaving for Oxenfurt, he hadn’t even talked to the guy after he saw him that first time. What was even weirder in all of this, Luca was apparently friends with Slawa. Would she talk shit about Julian? Absolutely. But would it hold enough weight to actually make someone so hostile? Unlikely. Anyhow, he was too tired to ponder the mysteries of Luca’s soul and he also had a shit ton of reading to do. He was a responsible acting king, after all. Kind of.

***

Julian woke up just as the sun started to set. He fell asleep at his desk around noon, but at least he made progress in his research. It didn’t look good. His father had seemingly been dead set on segregating the military from any decision-making power in Kovir. Julian suspected it was Ryazard’s influence that prompted this. He used the King’s resentment towards his wife to strengthen his agenda against the military. But then if everything was going according to plan, why kill the King? It didn’t make sense to Julian in the big picture. He was clearly missing something.

Julian’s body ached from sleeping at the table and when he tried to roll his shoulders, he realized the pain in the right arm was way more intense than any of his usual bruises from training.  _ Fuck _ . He would probably need to see a doctor about that. 

And if all that was not enough to make him feel utterly crappy, he haven’t had anything to eat since that unsuccessful attempt at getting a midnight snack. That, in turn, led Julian to remember he hadn’t put any requests for the palace kitchen for today so he would have to make do with whatever was served in the military communal mess. Like all military food, it was probably an unidentifiable mush, but it should be nutritious at least.

He combed his bed head as best as he could (which wasn’t all that good, to be fair) and headed for the military district. 

The mush turned out to be fairly enjoyable, people didn’t stare too openly and the headache, prompted by his ‘nap’, was starting to subside. All things considered, Julian was doing as well as he could, given the circumstances.

The bench on the opposite side of the table creaked as Kamil sat down with a plateful of whatever it was they were serving. Julian had eaten about a third of his own helping and he still wasn’t sure what it was exactly. 

In the days that Julian spent with Kamil on the road, he got to know the man a little, enough to make a general judgment of his character. Kamil cared a great deal for those who entrusted him to lead them in battle. He was a good-natured man but his deceptive calmness could vanish in a moment if you tried to wrong his people. Julian admired that.

“Staying close to the people? A humbling crusade,” Kamil smiled at him. 

“I missed dinner and didn’t want to bother kitchen people when there’s plenty of food to go around here,” Julian replied affably.

Kamil skeptically looked at his mush. “What an odd egg you are, Prince Julian.” He took a bite, then continued. “So, I take it the royal life isn’t treating you all that kind?”

Julian looked up at him, surprised, “What makes you say that?” Are there any rumors going around, he thought frantically? Do people question his leadership in the absence of his mother?

Kamil just shrugged. “I don’t know how to say it politely, so I won’t. You look like crap, son.”

_ Oh.  _ Right.

“I was up all night before the departure and then had a training session with a new tutor that didn’t go too well.” As if to prove his words, at that exact moment his right shoulder shot through with a bout of sharp pain, making Julian jerk with a painful sigh.

Kamil couldn’t help but notice that the prince didn’t use his right hand at all. Didn’t even lean it on the table. Couldn’t, more like. “You oughta get that looked at, I reckon.” 

“I was going to go see a palace doctor after dinner.”

Kamil visibly cringed. “Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” 

Julian raised an eyebrow, expecting the man to elaborate.

“They got this new guy a few years ago after Klaudiusz kicked the bucket. May his soul rest in peace,” Kamil sighed. “Yeah, so the new guy, he’s… lousy. He _heals,_ ” Kamil couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the word, “with the power of crystals. So if you want actual help, I wouldn’t recommend it.”

“Why the fuck do we keep him around then?” Julian asked, trying his best to chew calmly and not look nosy. He probably didn’t do a very good job of it.

“Well, the royal court insists. Between me and you, he just gives them tinctures that get them buzzed and listens to their whining so I guess they like him alright.”

“So… Where do you go when the military doctors are away on a campaign? They can be gone for months on end.”

“Oh, do you remember where the old Anatol’s tavern was?”

“Like, before it burned down? Yeah, me and Slawa would sneak out and steal ale from the backroom when we were kids.” Julian smiled at the memory. The ale tasted like crap and he had to hold Slawas’ hair while she puked more times than either of them cared to admit, but it was still fun. 

“There’s an apothecary there now. The owner is a physician. A decent guy, got a good head on his shoulders. Moved to Kovir about two years ago. He’s pretty young, but I’d trust him over that charlatan in the palace any day.”

“Is that so?” People from abroad didn’t often come to Kovir to live there. Traveling merchants, diplomatic delegations - yes, but full-on moving? That wasn’t common. Julian was rather intrigued. “Alright, thank you Kamil, I’ll make sure to stop by.”

Kamil nodded, satisfied with the answer and the conversation went on to other things. Apparently the Generals’ Council was wary of Julian, but they liked how he handled the whole Ryszard situation (to be fair he did very little handling aside from killing the guy, but he’ll take the praise, he’s not picky) and they had respect for his choice to wear a uniform like his mother and sister, instead of the flashy royal attire his father favoured. Other than that, Kamil was mostly retelling him rumors that were flowing around the Capital. Julian wasn’t particularly interested in those, but Kamil was a good company so he didn’t mind indulging the man. 

***

As the late evening settled, pain in the shoulder started to become unbearable, so Julian decided to trust Kamil’s opinion and headed into the city. He decided to indulge himself and change into civilian clothes. Nothing flashy though, he didn’t want to attract any attention to himself. He paused as the thought crossed his mind. In the years away from home, he forgot what it felt like, purposefully trying to make himself invisible. Didn’t feel all that good.

He settled on casual black velvet pants with a matching doublet over a white silk tunic that he didn’t bother lacing all the way up (it was an aesthetic choice, okay? It had nothing to do with the fact that he couldn’t move his fucking arm.)

The night air was crisp. Winter was right around the corner and Julian was  _ not _ thinking about how his family was all somewhere in the boonies and how he’d end up all alone here for months if they didn’t make it back in time before the snowstorms.

It took a little wandering to find the right place. A lot had changed in the Capital since Julian was a teenager and he didn’t know his way around as well as he thought anymore.

The apothecary took up an old two-story building. Julian noted that the writing on a sign above the entrance was very neat. Kind of a rare sight for Kovir. The art of calligraphy wasn’t very popular among the practical military folks. 

The doorbell dinged softly, as he walked in. There were tall wooden shelves with glass cabinets lining the sidewalls, semi-transparent cursive frosted on the glass in the same handwriting as on the sign outside. Magical protection from thievery. That kind of magic was rare around here as well as  _ very _ expensive to get done, Julian thought absentmindedly.

An intricately carved counter was put against the back wall and behind it was a door that led upstairs, if Julian remembered the layout correctly. 

A young man emerged from the back room. The only thought resonating in Julian's head at that moment was that the man was absolutely gorgeous, with smooth brown skin and curly hair. Julian was pretty sure he was a demigod or something. But then he met the man’s eyes.  _ Oh no. Oh no no no no no.  _ His eyes were  _ purple _ . Julian only knew one person with eyes like these and he was plenty traumatized from that acquaintance. He wanted to turn around and  ~~ flee ~~ retreat strategically, he truly did. But then the man smiled at him, so warm and sincere and Julian decided that, frankly, if he got killed by someone so gorgeous, he wouldn’t even be mad. Attractive people truly never bode well for his self-preservation instincts.

“Good evening. How may I help you?” The man’s voice was low and melodic and Julian was pretty sure the last cohesive thought just left his head.

“Um… hi, hello… um, my friend said you’re a doctor? I hit my shoulder pretty bad this morning. It hurts like hell warmed over and my hand started going numb so… that’s not great.”

“It is indeed not great,” the man replied, amused little smile playing on his lips. “I’ll have to take a look at it first, before suggesting anything in terms of treatment.” He reached under the counter for a piece of parchment and a quill, “I will need your name for the future references and to keep track of your history.”

“It’s Julian.”

“I’m afraid I will need a full name, it’s a pretty popular one.”

Julian chuckled, “I bet I even know why.” His tunic was barely laced but the patrimonial medallion slid around all the way around to the back. Julian fixed it with an elegant movement and smiled politely, “I’m sure you already know my full name, but I would really appreciate it if you kept it out of your records.” 

The man didn’t look surprised or even at all affected by this revelation. In the same neat cursive, he wrote  **_Ιουλιανός_ ** on top of the sheet, then looked up, giving Julian a curious once-over, “So, how did you hurt it?”

It took an incredible amount of brainpower for Julian to register the question. He was entirely too busy staring at what was undoubtedly a piece of a tattoo peeking out from the doctor’s long sleeve. Julian didn’t really feel like retelling the story of how a twenty-year-old knocked him on his ass this morning so he decided to deflect, because that's such a smart thing to do when it comes to one’s health. 

He propped his healthy hand on the counter and leaned in a little, “You ask me all these questions and I don’t even know your name?”

The beautiful doctor didn’t look impressed but, merciful to Julian’s dignity, he played along.

“It’s Eridan,” he said, looking Julian right in the eyes.

Something clicked in Julian’s head.

“Wait, like the constellation?”

“The constellation was originally named after a river, but yeah, that too.” Eridan smiled, seemingly pleased at the fact that Julian wasn’t an uneducated oaf. “I still need to take a look at that shoulder, Julian. If you don’t mind, follow me."

Eridan led him to the second floor of the building, a living area that looked more like a study. All available surfaces were covered with books and parchments. He went around a big wooden desk and started looking for something in one of the drawers. He paused to look up at Julian who kind of froze on the doorstep, looking around.

“Take your doublet and your undershirt off.”

“Just like that?” Julian laughed but complied. “I’m used to being wined and dined before I undress.”

Eridan narrowed his eyes and smiled mischievously, “Something tells me that’s just not true, Julian.”

As Julian was struggling to form any cohesive thought, Eridan finally found what he was looking for in those drawers and put a few vials with colorful liquids inside on the table. 

Eridan smelled like herbal tea and raspberry, his hands were warm and Julian  _ could swear  _ that the pain drastically subsided as soon as Eridan touched his shoulder.

He looked at Julian’s old bruises thoughtfully but said nothing. He didn’t ask about shoulder again either, probably realizing he wouldn’t get a straight answer.

“You have something called shoulder subluxation,” he looked up at Julian, “In simpler words it’s a partial dislocation. I need to put it back into place, it shouldn’t hurt that bad.” He started to gently rotate Julian’s arm until the shoulder gave a pop. 

Julian let out a screech that could've easily made a banshee jealous. “Ouch! Fuck! That  _ did _ hurt bad!”

Eridan smiled at him sweetly. “I lied. It’s just better if you don’t expect it.”

The pain actually started to ease, not that Julian noticed. All he could really focus on was that smile. It could probably make buttercups bloom in the middle of December, he thought dreamily.

“The feeling in your arm should come back soon. I’ll put on an ointment that should relieve the pain and bandage your shoulder. I should probably just give you the whole vial with ointment, seeing how you’re…” Eridan gestured vaguely at the array of bruises on Julian “...prone to accidents. Although, I would strongly suggest you avoid 'being clumsy', at least for a few days until your shoulder heals properly, or it will pop out of the joint again.”

“So how come you ended up in Kovir of all places?” Julian asked, resurfacing from his thoughts.

Eridan sighed. “Did you even listen at all to what I was saying?”

“Yeah,” Julian smiled jolly, “It was probably something along the lines of  _ don’t be dumb Julian _ . So, where are you from?”

Eridan looked resigned but reluctantly charmed. Julian only cared about that last part.

“Do you want to stay for tea, Julian?”

***

Julian woke up a little before dawn, it wasn’t dark outside but the sun still hadn't risen. He couldn’t remember having slept that well in a really long time. It was nice to not be in a hurry to get up for once.

Eridan stirred in bed next to him and Julian turned to see a pair of amaranth eyes looking at him sleepily. He smiled at Julian. “Good morning.” 

Oh, in another life Julian could’ve fallen hopelessly in love with this man, his charm, his wit, and his beauty. But unfortunately in this life, he was an idiot and a glutton for punishment, apparently. 

“Do you need to be in the palace before dawn?” Eridan put his chin on Julian’s uninjured shoulder.

“Not in the palace, but yeah, I have to leave soon.”

“Okay,” Eridan climbed out of bed, “I don’t know where your clothes are though, so figure it out yourself,” he said as a beautiful silk robe wrapped itself around him on its own accord.  _ Cheater _ , Julian thought grouchily as he got up to look for his pants.

***

All in all, Julian was in an excellent mood as he neared the training grounds. Eridan made him a wonderful cup of tea before he left, his shoulder was barely achy and even the weather seemed nice and refreshing instead of gloomy and freezing. Luca was already there, sitting on an old stump, grumpy as usual.

“How ya doing, buddy?” Julian asked, grinning ear to ear. He decided he didn’t want to be mean to Luca. He kind of already got his retribution and he wasn’t a vindictive person after all.

Luca seemed wary of such cheerfulness. He narrowed his eyes a little in suspicion but replied civilly. 

“Fine. Thank you.” 

Julian didn’t know the guy that well, but today he seemed to be just his usual grumpy self, no murderous tendencies.

“I owe an apology for yesterday,” Luca said to the dirt under his boots.

“Oh, alright.” Julian didn’t expect an apology but then he didn’t get those all that often to just brush it off.

“I apologize, my behavior was undignified. It won’t happen again.”  Luca was clenching his teeth so hard, Julian started to worry poor thing would get a migraine from all the jaw tension. 

“Wow, that looked like it brought you actual physical pain to get the words out. Just for that alone, I say we’re good. Just don’t do it again”

Of course, Julian was dying of curiosity as to why Luca was giving him a stink eye for a month in the first place but his impeccable sixth sense was telling him that if he started pushing for answers, Luca was just going to clam up. They needed to build trust first and Julian understood that like with all good things, it would take time.

“I thought we could maybe work on sequences today. This time properly,” Luca mumbled, still not looking up from the ground. “I don’t actually know that many and Slawa mentioned in the past that it was your specialty,” he sounded almost timid. It was pretty crazy how much his attitude was different today.

“Yeah, about that. When you dropped me yesterday I dislocated my shoulder, sort of, so I'm out of commission for a couple of days, doctor’s orders.”

Luca squirmed uncomfortably.

“I’m sor-”

“No,” Julian cut him off, “It’s fine. I mean like it’s not  _ fine  _ to just drop people out of nowhere but you were right, in a way. My enemies won’t give me a courtesy warning and with everything going on in the palace right now I’m not even sure who my enemies are so... my reaction should be better.”

“Well,” Luca  finally looked up to meet Julian’s eyes, “we can still do something today.” He seemed unsure of what he wanted to suggest, which only made Julian more curious. “It’s kind of an odd skill for a prince I guess, but like, you never know right? So... I could teach you how to pickpocket. If you want, I mean.”

He looked so… vulnerable, Julian thought. Offering up a part of his life he probably wasn't very fond of. Even if Julian wanted for some reason to stay mad at Luca, at that moment he knew there was no way in hell he would actually be able to. 

He gave Luca his most sincere smile, up to this moment reserved only for Slawa. “I would love to.”

And if Julian noticed the tips of Luca’s ears getting red, that was nobody’s business.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eridan's name is based on a real constellation https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eridanus_(constellation) but I chose to use transliterated slavic spelling because I liked it more ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> If you're curious this is kind of what I had in mind in terms of how he looks https://i.pinimg.com/564x/ae/0c/db/ae0cdbaff444b757ee76ca1a4f7082ae.jpg  
> And when he writes down Julian's name he spells it in greek


End file.
